


Two Cents Worth of Hope

by sohapppily



Series: Came Out Swinging [3]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Gay Mac Rules, Gen, post-Hero or Hate Crime?, the rest of The Gang appear briefly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-13 20:31:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11192853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sohapppily/pseuds/sohapppily
Summary: Mac reluctantly spends his meager lottery winnings. Charlie has some questions about his friend's recent confession.





	Two Cents Worth of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah yeah, I wrote a Hero or Hate Crime? coda to add to the sea of HoHC? codas. Whatever. I can’t get enough of these two.
> 
> Somewhat of a follow-up to [Blow Off a Piece of This City](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11110077). You don't have to read that one to read this, but the events from Blow Off are referenced.
> 
> Title stolen from a 1950s Italian film which I still haven’t seen.

“That’ll be $13.98,” said the woman behind the counter as she punched some buttons on the cash register.

Mac groaned. “Oh, are you _fucking_ kidding me?”

“Excuse me?” the woman asked, taken aback.

“Sorry,” Charlie interjected. “Ignore him. Mac, pay the woman. I’m hungry.”

“That’s almost all of it, dude!” Mac complained, as if his whining would lower the total.

“I know, man,” Charlie said, then scooped their sandwiches and snacks off the counter. “But you gotta pay."

Mac handed over the remainder of his lottery winnings and let out a defeated sigh as she gave back his change. Two days later and his $10,000 had been reduced to the two dingy, oxidized coins in his palm. He frowned.

After leaving the arbiter's office and making a quick stop to ditch the Asspounder and change clothes, Mac had gone straight to the Rainbow. The night was a blur of booze, boys, and bad house music, but it was easily one of the best of his life. He spent the following day asleep, then went out and did it all over again. He’d rolled into Paddy’s the day after that around 3PM, flecks of glitter still in his hair and a headache throbbing behind his eyes.

“What’s up, bitches?” he said with less enthusiasm than usual. After a few silent moments, he noticed the rest of the gang were standing in a row, arms crossed with determined looks on their faces. “Whoa. What’s going on?”

“Have a seat, Mac,” Dennis said, gesturing to the empty stool they’d dragged away from the bar.

Mac sat down and looked around nervously. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out.”

“Mac,” Dee said, taking a slow step forward. “Do you recall whose idea it was to visit an arbiter?”

“Mine,” Mac said slowly. “And it was a goddamn great idea.”

“Was it?” Dennis asked, sauntering forward to join his sister. Mac rolled his eyes. “Or did you do more harm than good?”

“I... think it was pretty good,” Mac said. “For me, anyway.”

“Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong!” Dee said. Her voice had taken on the ridiculous affectation she used when she was trying to be formal, and it was almost laughable.

“Do you know how much our little visit cost?” Dennis asked.

Mac shrugged. “I left before you guys paid.”

“Nine thousand, nine hundred and eighty-six fuckin' dollars,” Frank said from his place behind the twins.

“Shit,” Mac said. “That’s a lotta dough, Frank.”

“Yeah, it is,” Frank agreed. “So cough it up.”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

Frank pushed between his de-facto children and approached Mac, jabbing a stubby finger in his face. “Cough. It. Up.”

“Why would _I_ give it to you?” Mac asked.

“You just said it was your idea to go to the arbiter,” Dee reminded him.

It took a few moments for Mac to realize what they were implying. And then it clicked.

“THAT’S BULLSHIT!” he shrieked, jumping up off the stool.

“You’re paying, bitch,” Frank said.

“The fuck I am!” Mac yelled. “Frank, you always pay for this kinda shit!"

“Not this time,” Frank said. “We all agreed.”

“Guys?” Mac asked, looking around at his friends.

“It’s four to one, man,” Charlie said. “You’re outnumbered."

“This is homophobia,” Mac said defensively, and the gang groaned. “You guys are homophobes!"

“ _How_  the _Christ_ are we being homophobic?” Dennis asked.

Mac opened and closed his mouth, trying to defend his futile argument. “I don’t know! But you are!”

Dennis rolled his eyes. “You can’t just say things you don’t like are homophobic, Mac. That’s not how it works.”

“You’re really gonna fuck me over like this?” he asked, his whining voice shooting up an octave. “After everything I’ve been through?”

The gang remained stoic, unwavering in their decision.

“GODDAMNIT!” Mac yelled, punching the air in front of him and clenching his fists around nothing. “Goddamn you sons of bitches!”

“Fork it over, dick,” Frank said, sticking out his hand.

Mac reluctantly slid the lotto ticket he’d yet to cash out of his wallet and held it to Frank. As the ticket left his hand, like Cinderella at midnight, Gay Rich Mac turned back into the same old broke Mac he was before. But the gay part stuck, and now that he was being honest with himself, that was what really mattered.

Frank shoved the ticket in his pocket and handed back a crisp ten dollar bill and four crumpled singles. “There you go, faggot.”

Everyone groaned for a second time.

“You can’t _say_ that, man,” Charlie said, shoving Frank’s shoulder.

“We literally just paid ten thousand dollars to establish that you can’t use that word, you astonishingly stupid idiot,” Dennis said, piling on.

“But he’s out now!" Frank argued. “We’re buddies! I’m just razzin’ him! You’re gonna tell me I can’t use words?”

“Fuck off, Frank,” Dee said, pushing him toward the pool table.

“Can’t say the N-word, can’t say the F-word,” Frank said to no one in particular as he waddled away. “We live in the city where democracy itself was born and you freedom-hating assholes have turned this bar into a fascist regime."

"Idiot," Dennis repeated, walking back behind the bar to grab a beer. Dee hummed an agreement as she followed him, then pulled out four limes and a knife.

Mac looked down at the pathetic amount of cash in his hand, then up at Charlie. "You wanna go get hoagies?"

Charlie had nodded, which was how the two men found themselves walking out of the sub shop on 18th, sandwiches, chips, and soda in hand. They headed toward Logan Circle to enjoy their late lunch by the fountain in the sun. As soon as they settled onto a bench, Mac took a long swig out of their two-liter bottle of Coke, then emptied a small flask of Jack inside. He swirled the bottle around, not wanting to jostle the carbonation too much, took another sip, then passed it off to Charlie.

“Hair of the dog,” Mac said, then unwrapped his hoagie.

They sat mostly in silence for a few minutes, happily eating their sandwiches and passing the chips and soda back and forth.

“So what’ve you been up to?” Charlie asked. “We haven’t seen you since you left the lawyer's."

Mac shrugged. “Celebrating, I guess. Clubbing, mostly.”

“I figured,” Charlie said. "You’ve got glitter in your hair.”

Mac smiled sheepishly and Charlie reached his hand up to brush a few flecks out of the hair that hung across Mac’s forehead. He hadn’t bothered to gel his hair back today, which made things easier for Charlie as he continued to dust his hand around Mac’s head, removing the final traces of the night before.

“There,” Charlie said eventually, satisfied with his work. “You’re good.”

“Thanks,” Mac said through a mouthful of hoagie.

Charlie nodded, then asked, “So you’re really, like, _out_ now?”

Mac thought as he chewed his food. Sure, he’d only decided to come out for the money, but it still felt like the right decision. Recently, he’d felt like been standing in the frame of the closet door, desperate to burst through. Even as they'd faced certain death, those few hours on the cruise ship where he’d been honest with himself had been the best he’d felt in years. Consciously or not, he’d been looking for an out ever since.

“I think so,” Mac said, but after a moment, he amended, “Yeah. I am. I’m out.”

“No take backs this time?”

Mac laughed. “No take backs.”

“You’re officially gay?”

“Yeah, Charlie. I’m officially–” Mac paused for a beat, still finding the word a bit hard to say. “Gay. I’m gay.”

Charlie took a swig of soda and passed Mac the bottle. “I’m happy for you, man. We all are."

“Thanks,” Mac said, then shoved a few chips in his mouth to avoid any further comment.

“You already seem different,” Charlie said.

“I do?” Mac asked.

“Yeah. Like, we expected getting you to pay for the lawyer to take at least two hours but it took like, four seconds? And at the sub shop just now, you barely complained. You seem less..."

"Like I'm about to fucking explode at literally any moment?" Mac said, for once verbalizing the way he'd felt for so long.

Charlie laughed. "Yeah, dude. Less like that."

"I guess, yeah," Mac said with a small shrug.

He wasn't wrong. Mac's near instinctual urge to scream and smash at any mild inconvenience had already begun to fade into his past.

Charlie popped a few chips in his mouth and took a swig of soda before saying, "I really am happy for you, Mac. I never thought you would actually do it."

"Me neither," Mac admitted, shoving down the hellfire that started to lick at the edges of his thoughts.

As if reading his mind, Charlie asked, “What does God have to say about all of this?”

“I don’t know,” Mac said quietly. “I haven’t really gotten that far yet.”

“Do you think you’ll go back to that church with the gay guys?”

Mac paused. He hadn’t even thought about Scott and David. Even though they hadn’t parted on great terms, Mac figured if anyone would be able to help him reconcile himself with his faith, it was them.

“I might,” he answered.

“They seemed cool,” Charlie said. “I think they’d appreciate having you back.”

Mac nodded, then once again turned to his food to avoid a real reply. He could tell by the way Charlie was trying and failing to surreptitiously watch him out of his peripheral that Charlie wanted to ask him something. Mac had a feeling he knew what the question was. He waited a minute for Charlie to speak, then rolled his eyes.

“Just ask me, dude.”

“What?”

“I know what you want to ask. Just ask it.”

Charlie nodded, then carefully asked, “So have you ever, like… hooked up with a dude before?"

Even knowing the question, Mac suddenly felt embarrassed. He didn't often feel that way around Charlie.

"Um. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah. I've never, uh..." Mac hesitated.

"Fucked a guy in the ass?" Charlie asked, and Mac was grateful. Not only for his friend's brashness, but the ease with which he said it and the complete neutrality of his tone.

"No," Mac said with a short laugh. "Some hand stuff and blowjobs though."

"Giving or getting?"

Mac shrugged. "Both."

"Anyone I know?" Charlie asked with a grin.

"Nah," Mac replied. "Just random guys at clubs and shit. I don't even remember most of their names."

Charlie laughed once. "Slut."

"Shut up," Mac said, grinning back as he elbowed Charlie in the ribs. "You're just jealous."

"Of the dudes?" Charlie said. "Not so much. Of the blowjobs, a little."

"You could get girls if you tried, Charlie," Mac said. "You don't have to keep chasing the Waitress around."

Charlie shrugged. “It’s hard to get girls when you’re ugly.”

“You’re not ugly, dude,” Mac said, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not?” Charlie asked.

“No, man,” Mac assured him. “Definitely not.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “So, like. If you saw me at one of your clubs or whatever, you’d be like, ‘oh, shit, that’s a good lookin’ dude.’”

“Yeah, I guess,” Mac said.

“You guess or yeah?” Charlie asked.

“Yeah."

Charlie hummed and nodded his head, then asked, “So you think I’m hot?”

“Bro, I’ve watched you eat food you found in a dumpster,” Mac said. “That’s definitely not hot."

“Yeah, and you ate it too, asshole, so ignore that and tell me if I’m hot.”

Mac smiled. “Sure, Charlie. You’re hot.”

“What’s hot about me?”

“Seriously, dude?” Mac asked.

“Yes!” Charlie insisted.

Mac sighed. “Okay, fine. Let me look at you.”

“You’ve been looking at me since we were five years old.”

“Shh,” Mac hissed, making a show of looking Charlie up and down.

“You want me to stand up?” Charlie asked.

“Why the hell not?” Mac said, fighting the urge to laugh as Charlie stood up, spun once, and sat back down.

“So?”

“Well,” Mac started. “Your beard is cute.”

“My beard?” Charlie asked with a confused look.

“Yeah,” Mac said. “It looks good on your face.”

“Because it covers most of it?”

“No, dumbass,” Mac said. "It… works for you. Even when we were younger, it was never awkward and patchy like mine was. It just grew in and looked good.”

Charlie brought a hand up to his face and ran his fingers over his beard, so Mac reached over and did the same, gently tugging at his friend’s facial hair. His fingertips ghosted over Charlie’s skin and the contact shot him back in time to a hot summer night at the old diving pool. Overwhelmed with adrenaline and endorphins, his palm had laid against the same cheek as he pressed their lips together. Teenage hands scrambled against sweat-slick skin, and that was when Mac really  _knew_.

He’d never shared that with Charlie, but one day, he thought he might.

“What else?” Charlie asked.

“Your eyes,” Mac said, voicing something he’d long felt. “I’ve always liked your eyes.”

“These are weirdly specific, man,” Charlie said, then asked, “Is it the color?”

“Sort of,” Mac replied. “They’re just… warm. And really expressive. I can always tell how you’re feeling by how your eyes look.”

They looked at each other for a few long moments, their gazes locked, until Charlie grinned and broke away.

“Okay, dude, I think this is getting a little too gay,” Charlie said with a small laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” Mac replied, laughing as well. “You started it. You’re not my type, anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Charlie asked, feigning offense.

“You’re too small,” Mac said. “You’ve got no mass, and your physique is a joke.”

Charlie snorted, then finished off his sandwich. “Sorry I’m not a fucking bodybuilder.”

Mac grinned and finished his sandwich as well. They both tossed the wrappers into the bushes behind them, ignoring a pointed look from a nearby mother at their littering.

“Is that why the Waitress thinks I’m ugly?” Charlie asked. “I’m too small?"

“Oh, goddamnit, dude,” Mac said. “Is that what this is about?”

“I just don’t know why she thinks I’m so awful!” Charlie insisted.

“Give it up, bro,” Mac said. “She’s never gonna bang you.”

“She will,” Charlie insisted.

“She won’t.”

“She _will_.”

“Okay, I’m not having this argument for the thousandth time. We should go out tonight.”

“Why?”

“So we can get you laid!” Mac said. “There are plenty of chicks in this city, Charlie. We can definitely find one who’d blow you.”

Charlie shook his head. “Thanks but no thanks, man.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Charlie said. “But I’ll come out with you if you want. Be your wingman or whatever.”

"I don't think you'd be into my scene, Charlie."

"I could try."

Mac bit his lip. Part of him wanted to take Charlie up on the offer, finally let his best friend see him as he truly was. Charlie would surely be out of place and uncomfortable, but Mac knew he’d stick it out. Still, he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Maybe another night,” Mac said. “I’d rather hang at Paddy’s. Chill out a little.”

“Cool.”

After that, they were quiet for a while, enjoying the afternoon sun as a slew of Philadelphians and tourists milled around them. Mac watched two men on the other side of the park, walking hand in hand around the fountain and sharing a hot pretzel. No one around them seemed to bat an eye at the couple, and for the hundredth time since he claimed to be gay, Mac felt something in him change. Could people really be so accepting? Had his own guilt kept him blind to a societal shift? Why, even though he was out now, did he still feel a mild twinge of disgust in the back of his mind looking at the couple? It wasn’t directed at them, he knew that. It was directed at himself.

He sighed heavily as he looked away. He wasn’t going back in. But he had a long way to go.

“What’s up, man?” Charlie asked, turning his head toward Mac.

“Huh?” Mac asked, snapping out of his thoughts.

“What’s with the sigh?”

“Nothing,” Mac said.

“Nothing?” Charlie asked. “Or those gay guys with the pretzel?”

Mac felt his face heat up, and Charlie took that as an answer.

“It’s okay if you’re not, like, ready to lead a pride parade, dude,” Charlie said. “You’re allowed to have a hard time with it.”

“I’m _allowed_?” Mac asked. “Where are you getting that from?”

Charlie shrugged. “Me, Dennis and Dee did some research about what you should do and say when your friend comes out.”

“You did?” Mac asked, equally touched and confused.

“Yeah. We don’t wanna fuck this up for you.”

“Oh,” Mac said softly. “Thanks?”

“No problem, man. And, um. Sorry.”

“For what?”

“How many times I've said fa–" Charlie paused and shook his head. "The F-word. Dennis and Dee, too. We’re all sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, dude,” Mac said. “I said it more than any of you guys.”

“Yeah, but you were like, deflecting or internalizing or whatever,” Charlie argued, and Mac could tell he was parroting what the twins had told him. “We were just being mean.”

“You still don’t have to say sorry,” Mac said.

“But I want to,” Charlie insisted.

Mac smiled at the other man's rare sincerity. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Charlie said. “We all promised we won’t say it anymore.”

Mac nodded and looked back at the gay couple, who were now sitting on a bench, one man’s arm draped around the other as they both laughed at a private joke. The disgust he’d felt earlier didn’t reappear. He turned back to Charlie.

“So you guys are really just… okay with it?” Mac asked. “With me?"

“Of course, man,” Charlie replied. “Why the hell wouldn’t we be?”

“I don’t know,” Mac said. “I just… This seriously doesn’t change anything?”

“Nah, dude,” Charlie replied with a grin. "We all still hate you just as much as we did a few days ago.”

“Asshole,” Mac said, laughing as he shoved Charlie’s shoulder with his own.

Charlie laughed, then said, "Anyway, we’ve known forever, so it’s not really a change for us.”

“That’s impossible, Charlie,” Mac replied, rolling his eyes. “There’s no way you could’ve known."

“Dude, I’ve known since we were like thirteen and I found all those crinkled, sticky bodybuilding magazines under your bed.”

Mac was taken aback. Charlie had never told him that. “Those were exercise related,” he insisted, knowing Charlie saw right through him.

“Bullshit,” Charlie said. “You weighed like twenty pounds.”

“Which is why I was trying to bulk up!”

Charlie ignored his protest and said, “And there was the way you used to leave the locker room after gym class right after you finished changing.”

“Locker rooms are gross,” Mac said. “You know how many diseases were probably around there? All that sweat?”

“All those shirtless guys you couldn’t stare at,” Charlie countered, his voice teasing.

Mac looked at his best friend, mouth agape. Charlie had always been able to read Mac better than anyone, but Mac didn’t realize he was this intuitive.

“Also, dude, last St. Patrick’s Day? The glitter and the tank top? You weren’t fooling anyone.”

“That…” Mac began, floundering. “Was… I was researching…”

“And you banged Carmen,” Charlie said.

“Carmen’s a girl,” Mac replied immediately. “That wasn’t gay.”

“She had a dick, man.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t touch– She's still–“ Mac let out a frustrated grunt. “We’re not going through this again, Charlie."

“Fine. But then there was that night at the old diving pool when we were sixteen,” Charlie said. “When you kissed–“

“Okay!” Mac yelled, briefly garnering the attention of a few people around them. He lowered his voice and continued, “Okay. Fine. You knew. Whatever.”

Charlie smiled. “So it’s really not a big deal. If we had a problem with it, we wouldn’t still be here.”

“What about Frank?” Mac asked, hearing the man’s earlier words echo in his mind.

“Fuck Frank,” Charlie said. “He’s just trying to be an asshole. He doesn’t give a shit.”

“But he said…”

“Yeah, because he likes to piss off Dennis and Dee, and they told him like a thousand times not to say it,” Charlie said. “Besides, do you actually care what _Frank_ thinks about you?”

Mac laughed. “Not really.”

“Exactly,” Charlie said. “But seriously. He doesn’t give a shit.”

“I know,” Mac said.

”None of us care that you’re gay,” Charlie repeated, then amended, “I mean, y’know, we _care_. But it’s not, like, gonna make anything weird or different. We just want you to be happy.”

Mac smiled. “I am happy.”

“Then so am I," Charlie replied with a grin.

Before they could say anything else, Charlie’s phone chimed and he dug it out of his pocket. Mac finished off the last of the soda, listening as Dee squawked about the biggest fucking rat she’s ever seen and how Charlie had to get his ass back to the bar and bash it right this goddamn second. Charlie hung up and they both stood up, stretching their arms out after their long rest.

“Should we get the bus?” Charlie asked. “Dee sounded freaked out.”

“With what money?” Mac replied. “I literally have two cents.”

“I think I have…” Charlie reached a hand in his pocket, fished around and pulled out a handful of nothing. “Walking it is.”

“Hang on,” Mac said as Charlie started to walk back to the street.

“Hmm?”

Mac dug the two pennies out of his pocket and handed one to Charlie. “Let’s go wish in the fountain.”

“Are we five years old?”

“Come on, man,” Mac said, pulling on his friend’s arm. “It’ll be fun.”

Charlie conceded and the two men approached the fountain. Mac slowly turned the penny back and forth in his hand, feeling strangely nervous as his mind concocted a wish. They reached the edge of the water and looked at each other.

“Ready?” Charlie asked.

“Ready.”

Mac counted to three and both men flipped their coins into the air. As Mac watched his arc and spin, he let one thought fill his mind.

_I wish that one day I’ll be okay with who I am._

The coins landed in the fountain with two small _plunk_ noises, and Mac grinned. He knew it was silly, but something about using the last of the money he’d been awarded for coming out felt symbolic. Charlie put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed once, a silent affirmation of everything they’d discussed.

“So, did you wish for the Waitress to bang you?” Mac asked as they began their walk to the bar.

“I can’t tell you or it won’t come true,” Charlie answered, letting his hand fall away. “But no, I didn’t.”

Charlie turned toward Mac and smiled, and something in the look told Mac that Charlie’s wish had been similar to his own.

“Good,” Mac said. “Because it’s never gonna happen.”

“It’ll happen,” Charlie replied. "I have a new plan."

As Charlie began to babble on about his latest scheme to ensnare the Waitress, Mac noticed the gay couple from before walking toward them. One of the men looked somewhat familiar up close, and Mac wondered if he’d seen him before on a night he’d enjoyed but later tried to erase with booze and prayers. He caught Mac’s eye as they passed and smiled, so Mac smiled back. He turned his head to look at them as they walked away, glancing down at their joined hands then at the people around them, noticing again that no one seemed to care.

Two cents worth of hope filled him as he turned back toward Charlie. He’d be okay.


End file.
